Love

I pray today Lord, that I may let go of anything that may stop me from truly loving others.

Whether it's because I feel offended or hurt. Choosing to keep my hurt close , picking at the scabs of my indignation till wounds become infected by anger. Instead of forgetting and forgiving so that my heart can be released, truly healed and strong enough to Love fully again. Only with more compassion than ever before for the hurting the offended and those who are angry

or in difficulty.

Sometimes Lord, Love comes second place when my beliefs, the way I see things and my ideas stand in the way of my fully loving someone very different to me. The argument comes out of my mouth taking first place before Love. I don't leave the judgement to you alone. I forget to remember that I am in no place to judge as I am not free from sin. I pick up the stones ready to cast.

Often I even think that my argument is for my neighbour's own good. Yet I am putting a barrier between your love and them with my words. I must learn to place my trust in you. And remember humbly that I have been confounded to many times before to assume I know the best way for another. The best way to represent you is through loving without judging,

I understand that sometimes I fail to love because I turn away from seeing another's heart and simply judge them as I see them in the flesh,

They may come across as harsh or rude or mean or impatient. Yet how many times have I maybe come across badly because of struggle and lack of understanding only to desperatly want acceptance.

Yet you accepted me as I was. And still do, even though I do the wrong things or act in the wrong way with the wrong motivations time and time again. You gently tell me you love me. Just as a mother loves her small child who screams and throws a tantrum simply because that child is still to small to control herself completly or know how to handle her emotions.

It's true that so often find myself expecting perfection from myself and looking for perfection from others too.

Yet your love Lord, is gentle when I fail. You remind me through this that you simply want my love not my sacrifice.

It's true, I know Lord, I fail to reach out as I should and love fully because I am afraid and I put up defences,

I fear hurt or rejection, yet even in hurt and rejection Jesus loved.

I forget that many words are often useless. Yet loving, truly LOVING, even when it seems that my loving is simply being poured into the ground for nothing, is like planting a small mustard seed in the dirt, or adding a small portion of yeast to the dough. Love comes from God alone and will work without dictation and managment of it's course. Somehow, somewhere and in someway simply loving, will make a difference.

Sometimes I am ashamed to say that my love becomes complacent. There is a certain lack of interest, my life is full enough, Surely there is just not enough "of me" to go around. And there isn't. But there is enough of you Jesus if I only lean on you and take your yoke.

There are many barriers that stop your love from flowing freely through me Lord. Most of them are illusionary and of my own making in the end.

Yet for all I do, or say, or think, or believe, or have, or give, or pray, loving should always come first.

A LOvE that is pure, that cleanses all the worries, doubts, arguments, differences, offences, pridefullness, selfish plans and complacency.

Till all that is left is the Jesus in me and the Jesus in my neighbour.

Lord help me to LOVE the way you LOVED.

amen.

God Knows

My 10 year old has been studying for an exam called the 11 + which she will be taking on Saturday morning.

There are many different opinions about the 11+ some are for the exam some are totally against it but we thought we would put her up for it, mainly because she wanted us too and her opinion really counts for something to us. She is a wise and good natured soul and I still swear I've learnt more from that little girl than she'll ever be able to learn from me.

I had been planning on homeschooling all my girls once they reach high school age. It's just a conviction our family has, not saying it's for everybody but I feel God has lead our family this way.

We are really lucky with the primary school Emmy and Bujana attend. It's friendly, warm, welcoming and focuses just as much on forming friendships, kindness, tolerance and spiritual and emotional development as it does the academics. This was the clincher for me so far as sending my two eldest there. Emmy has really blossomed and made a few very dear and special friendships at this school. But I had been concerned that I wouldn't find a secondary school that would strike such a good balance.

Well, before the Summer holidays, Emmy went with her Dad to visit the local Grammar school and they both came home with such wonderful enthusiasm.

Emmy said she could imagine herself being really happy there as it focuses on Science which she loves and it has a wonderful design tech and art department which she also loves! This meant she was talking about it all through the holidays lol !

So I was persuaded. Emmy would go to that school if she past the 11 + .

More than anything I have always wanted Emmy to follow her heart and be happy.

Yesterday she took a mock 11+ test at school and failed it very badly.

So this means It looks like she won't be getting into this school.

For a moment, after I got the results of the mock test, I felt some awful feelings swell within. Feelings of worry, doubt, frustration.

Each one crowding my mind argumentatively. What do we do? Surely she couldn't have tried hard enough? But everyone expected her to pass easily! She'll be so disappointed! What about the opportunities she'll miss, the opportunities that I can't provide for her at home? What if I can't do a good enough job at home schooling? What if I fail her? I should have pushed her harder, made her practice and revise more!

Then I looked at her face, her beautiful, face, kind, sweet, desiring to please, gentle, smiling, free from care. My beautiful girl.

And I felt ashamed. I held her close.

And then, in that moment, before my eyes, my ten year old daughter grew to be a young lady in a sentence. At a crossroads that must seem like a big fork in the road to her ten year old feet, she simply looked me in the eyes and quietly said.

" God knows Mummy. God knows what's best for me, and I accept God's decision."

A way of life, of believing, of trusting that we have tried, her Daddy and I , to bring her up with.

A faith in a God "who knows" echoing back to her from someplace in her heart at the very moment she probably needed it most so far in her life.

Many of her good friends will be going to this school, I know it will be hard for her not to see them so much but.... And this is a big one.

So long we try our best that is what counts. God knows the best route for us. Sometimes it's not the one that looks logical, or the one that we want, but it will somehow be the right one.

God himself often takes what the world, or we ourselves, consider to be a failure and uses it for good better than every one of our successes.

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Sometimes I fear we( including me) (even in a Christian culture) tend to pursue education for its own sake rather than considering how it will enable us to better serve God.

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I don't regret the times I could have made Emmy practice and revise yet didn't because it would have carved into time that is precious for her and us as a family. If passing an exam means giving up huge chunks of all the things that really matter in our family. Making and preparing meals together, prayer and bible readings in the evening, having our "long meandering talks"

Making some art or writing, or baking, or sewing, growing veggies, practising the piano, helping the people in our neighbourhood, forging friendships and relationships (breath :0)

then, I guess, it's just not meant to be passed. At least not by one of my children :0)

The pressures on kids academically are enormous. A few decades ago you needed a couple of GCSE's to get your foot into a job you would like, now even a university degree has become devalued. Children are spending 7 hours at school and are given two hours of homework to do afterward which is so very much. I worry there isn't enough of a balance for them.

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If God wills it I will joyfully home school this beautiful young lady of mine next year.

I shall not fear, or worry or doubt the course. Just trust the Lord who steers this ship :0)

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My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest. (Exodus 33:14)

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It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. (Deuteronomy 31:8)

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The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. (Deuteronomy 33:27)

I have set the Lord always before me. Because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken. (Psalm 16:8)

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You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance. (Psalm 32:7-8)

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I sought the Lord, and he answered me, and delivered me from all my fears. (Psalm 34:4)
Those who seek the Lord lack no good thing. (Psalm 34:10b)

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Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the Lord guards the city, the guard keeps watch in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives sleep to his beloved. (Psalm 127:1-2)

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Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. (Proverbs 3:5-6)

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Your father knows what you need before you ask him. So do not worry, saying 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Today's trouble is enough for today. (Matthew 6:8b, 31-34)

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Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. (Matthew 11: 28-31)

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Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten in God's sight. But even the hairs of your head are all counted. Do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows. (Luke 12:6-7)

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Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest. (Luke 12:25-26)

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Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom. (Luke 12:32)

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Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. (John 14:27)

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Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love. (John 15:4-5,7,10)

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And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)

A retreat, an apple, and a dream.

I had a dream one night last week. I never remember my dreams anymore and yet this one I remember vividly in great detail.

It started with an apple. A big red, round, juicy apple. Perfect in every way. It had been designed somehow to be a better version of an apple than any old ordinary apple. It had a higher nutritional content, it was better tasting, it stayed fresher for longer and it looked much more perfectly round and red than any regular apple.

What a wonderful discovery! Perfection in my hand. I could taste it, it would give me health and make me feel strong.

Sometimes, Life, Myself, The way I act in social situations, the way I plan and follow through the routines of my day, the way I look, all seem to me like they might be in need of a few adjustments here and there. I'm sure any of the TV shows that have become so popular recently, the ones with a mean judging panel, would have a field day makeovering me and my life:0)

Areas that need to be a little brighter, healthier, richer, stronger, better looking!

Sometimes I even find myself looking for these attributes from God! I want a god that is a celebrity, a superstar, a knight in shining armour. A designer package of a god with a matching designer label saying "saved."

Oh good that must mean I'm one of the good apples! Phew!

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I went to a retreat yesterday. It was a lovely day in so many ways an an experience I'm most grateful for. The kids that were involved with the retreat deal regularly with school parties, confirmation groups and the like and they have bags of energy and enthusiasm. There were organised games, questionnaires, a little bit of meditative music, alot of very loud and lively music, Jokes, Sunshine and alot of Talking. The best part for me by a mile, however had nothing to do with the itinerary, or the music or even the mass. The best part was spending time with someone who has been one of the best friends of our family. I talked of things, she spoke of things, we shared, we laughed, I felt that I learned more about this friend's heart which made me love her more and understand her more. It was only when I came home that I realised that God was trying to show me something here. Truth, relationship, love, compassion, being real. These are the real itineraries of life, the real songs, the real liturgies. This is what the mass prepares us for. "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath" (Mark 2:27).

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During the day at the retreat there was alot of role playing of the scriptures fast forwarded to the year 2008 in the form of "Pop Idol" and "Big Brother"
Where grumbling Israelites were transformed into grumbling housemates awaiting eviction.

I became involved in working out a role play for our gospel reading at mass.
Questions went through my mind. How could we make the importance of the event we were recounting, stimulating, relevant and inspiring all at the same time. How could we add to it, make it shiner, glossier, give the kids an extra angle on the scripture, bring it to life, make it apply to the kid's everyday experiences.

Suddenly, I had a realisation that, we just couldn't.

We could not gloss the gospel story over because it was meant to be plain and simple in it's truth. "He has no form or comeliness; and when we shall see Him, there is no beauty that we should desire Him"

We could not bring it to life, because it was already alive, living and breathing and there in the room with us if we only would stop what we were doing for a moment and listen. Reach out a little and touch his form in the smile of another. The kind word of another, the friendship of another.

And finally, and a little frustratingly, I could not even make it apply to the kid's everyday experiences either. This was an experience that could only come through grace and love. Through scripture readings, prayers and listening that invites God into the everyday liturgy of routines, washing, folding, tidying, eating, playing, reading, loving, caring, running, walking, dreaming, writing, BEING.

For God's love breathes through all these things and more

We ended up binding the arms of one of the group members and as the words... "For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him." were read the shackles were thrown to the ground and the cross was lifted high into the air.

It all came down to the cross. What more could be done or said. It was all about a shabby, bloodstained, wooden cross, raised up towards the sun till nothing more could be seen but the light behind, above and surrounding it.

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Sometimes I get so immersed in a sense of urgency and continual action. I'm waiting in a state of suspension, for the next task to appear before me.

One of the most valuable experiences during the retreat was during reconciliation where we literally sat still and quiet for over an hour as each person went to speak with the priest in turn. Before reconciliation we were asked by the group leaders to write down some of the things that we felt burdened by. As I had joined the group a day later than the rest they had written their answers on sheets. When the group leader told everyone to tear their answers off the sheet I misheard and actually tore my piece of paper in half!

Luckily we were then given red envelopes to put our answers into! I put mine in quick :0)

Before the reconciliation mass itself, we had a break. As I was walking around the grounds in the beautiful crisp September sun I noticed the transparency of the leaves in the light, how all the veins etched through the tender greenness giving life to the very edges of the plant.

Nature as she tends to, spoke to me of God's grace through the ragged leaves of overgrown hedgerow. Jesus sees right into our hearts, with his light. I was already forgiven. I was meant to mis-hear the instructions, I was meant to tear up my sins, for Jesus's blood is like the veins in that leaf, cleansing, healing, giving life. Later, after the mass of reconciliation we burnt our envelopes and mixed the ashes with paint to make a painting on which we put all our names.

Jesus can take our sins and instead of condemning us for them he can use them to make something beautiful. All we have to do is reach out for his hand with trust and sorrow. Not self pitying sorrow, but sorrow that has the hope of being transformed into joy through his forgiveness. I am free. A child of God. I can run around fearlessly in his garden.

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I remember during lessons at school I used top often look out of the window at the countryside in the distance and think to myself, why can't I just go for a walk alone out there, hear the birds singing, the rustle of the leaves in the wind. I've never been one for routines or harsh disciplines or conforming to the rules. And yesterday I was reminded of this through all the noise of preparations for this and that activity, role play, game, as I looked out the window briefly and just thought. If only I was that butterfly on that morning glory :0)

Sometimes with all the best intentions in the world we can miss the goal in our pursuit of it.

The kingdom is here already Jesus said to his disciples. "Jesus said: If those who lead you say to you: See, the kingdom is in heaven, then the birds of the heaven will go before you; if they say to you: It is in the sea, then the fish will go before you. But the kingdom is within you, and it is outside of you."Gospel of Thomas. And truly it is.

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I thought again about that garden this morning as I awoke to another beautiful sunny September morning. Sometimes it is the overgrown parts of life that lend themselves more to God's grace than the tidy manicured areas.

I'm like a little ant at times, carrying my treasures back to my ant hill. Making a great structure that constantly needs maintaining and extending until the structure actually becomes more important than it's purpose. to give me shelter, protection.
We cannot "create" an experience of God. God's kingdom is upside down and back to front.
He made a world where the most splendid, delicate and beautiful flower must grow in dung, in muck!
He has a sense of humor yes but it is warm and inclusive, not crude and divisive. He has a gentle arm that embraces the sorrowful, guides the lost and befriends the friendless.


I'm glad and humbled that I got to know his friendship, through another, a little better.
For it is through friendship that we share his love on earth.

Oh and getting back to that dream , incase you were wondering....
I never did take a bite out of that apple! Luckily I was woken out of it by my very own, regular little wake up caller ....Seraphina babbling away in the cot beside me :0)

ABUNDANCE in TEASPOONS

It all started with teaspoons!

This morning I realised that finally we had a drawer full of them.

Tani had gone to the shop after work to pick some up as somehow we had run out ( do teaspoons go to the same black hole that matching socks and hair ties do ?) and we had resorted to using the children's plastic play spoons (blush)

When I saw the drawer full of new shiny spoons it just felt so abundant! Positively opulent!

I started writing my gratitude journal a while back now, inspired by Ann over at Holy Experience 's Gratitude Community.

In the beginning when I actually sat down to put all I felt grateful for on to paper it started with the big things. Food, Shelter, Clean Water, Health, A Happy Family.

I'm more than aware that there are too many people who survive without many of these things, some with just a little. I am grateful that I have these basic provisions right now.

As time has gone on however I have found that my list has increased, I can hardly stop thinking of things to write down. And it's not just the big things that I am inspired to praise God in thanksgiving for.

The smallest details of life have imprinted themselves, come out into relief, been brought into focus.

The way light shines on a child's face, sparkles on the dewy grass.

The glorious mess of an unmade bed after an afternoon nap.

Freckles that have risen like bubbles to the surface of my four year olds face this Summer.

The smell of tomatoes ripening in the garden.

The wonder Tilly has at every little insect and bug she finds.

The way peanut imitates every little thing Tilly does.

Soft socks,

And yes.... teaspoons!

Gratitude is an amazing thing. by changing our perspective we also change our vision, we change what we see and how we see it. Radically it may lead to a change in what we experience and how we experience it...

"She had chosen a journey towards God's destination. To his invitation, "Come," she had stepped out along the way, and already the sights and sounds were smelling, tasting, feeling new, even those which would once have seemed mundane and commonplace."

"On the Way to Bethlehem" Hilary McDowell.

Little Ways

Little drops of water, little grains of sand.

Make the mighty ocean and the pleasant land.

The "Little Ways" of St. Therese have always been something so inspirational for me.

What may appear, small, obscure, unseen, ordinary or unimportant by worldly standards, is in fact like the smallest stiches on a quilt. Though they may be only visable on the inside of the quilt, they are in fact what hold the fabric of the piece together.

St. Therese understood that what may appear to be of no value here on earth, may have great value in the Kingdom of God. Her wondeful quote "To pick up a pin for love can convert a soul" Is something I often find myself returning to.

A smile, a kind word, even the monotonous details of daily work are a prayer.

And for me the greastest prayer has been acceptance which seems, in a way such an ordinary thing, yet it has been something of an evolving process for me.

Acceptance of suffering at times. Yet acceptance also of the gracious gifts of others when my pride tried to resist. Acceptance of my limitations, My faults, stubborness, pride, disatisfaction, indignation, fear.

Acceptance of the limitations and faults of others. Truthfully. And the more I accept my own faults. The more I can love others despite theirs. How can I take offence? It's so much easier to accept that difficulties in a person's behaviour are usually the result of some kind of pain.

Just like my own are. And I hope they accept mine lol!

"Perhaps St. Therese of Liseux, patroness of all missions, was meant to live out a destiny in which her time was limited to the minimum, her actions were reduced to essentials, her heroism was indisernable to those who looked for it, and the scope of her mission covered a mere few square meters, in order to teach us that the effectivness of a mission is not always measurable by the hands of a clock, that actions are not always visible, that missions covering vast distances will be joined by missions that penetrate straight into the depth of the crowds of humanity. In that abyss, these missions will make contact with the human spirit that questions the world, and oscillates between the mystery of a God who wants it to be small and stripped bare, and the mystery of a world that wants it to be great and powerful."

Madeliene Delbrel "We, The Ordinary People of the Streets."

seeing

Said the fox. " This is my secret. It's very simple: we only really see with our hearts. What matters is invisible to the eyes."

"What matters is invisable to the eyes," repeated the little prince, so as not to forget.

The little Prince

Antoine de Saint - Exupery.

This reminded me of a beautiful series of posts over at Holy Experience entitled

The Ugly-Beautiful

Sometimes, I perceive on the frayed edges of myself.

I see with my eyes. I judge, find fault, see ugliness instead of beauty, chaos instead of grace.

I forget to stop, and count, each blessing. I forget to Praise in the rain I forget to be .
Thankful

When we first moved to our new rented house, in "not such a great neighbourhood" as I thought at the time, all I could see was dissatisfaction. I cleaned and tidied like mad in a desperate attempt to paper over what I thought were external cracks but were in truth internal ones.

Our garden was filled with rubble and weeds yes, and our floor was nothing but bare unvarnished boards, (not funny when you have a crawling wiggling 10 month old!

But we had some angels on our side and a few hard working helpful hands in tow and before we could blink we had turned the concrete rubble into green grass and the gutted house into a home.

Yet, as soon as we had finished I started to write a list about which furniture we would " have to" replace first, ( all our furniture came from a recycling centre,)

Even though it looked fine in reality, Some itching doubt inside me knew it wasn't new and I was seeing with my bad short viewed, narrow visioned eyesight, instead of with a grateful heart.

Things were not "perfect" in my view.

It's so funny to me now looking back.

Because now I am sitting here 4 and a half years on with two more children and a lot more dust, toys, mess and "imperfections" to look at than I ever had before. Yet, strangely, overwhelmingly, I don't see ugliness any more, I don't see imperfection.

I see joy.

I see the expectation of a new day, a new chance to build a memory, a connection. Sow a seed in a little heart.

I see quarrels at times, yes, but I see growing, independent souls behind them instead of disruption and failure.

I see sand speckled like spray paint over the lawn, where the dandelions seem to have gone crazy multiplying and dividing this year! But I don't see untidiness, I see children having fun with a bucket and spade on a Summer afternoon. I see a memory made in the sand. a footprint that was bigger than last year!

I see a memory made in the heart not the eyes. In love not judgement.

I see books piled up on the children's bedroom floor yes, but I don't see a lack of discipline ( well not to much anyway! I see creativity and children who love to read willingly and gladly!

My vision has shifted.

From my eyes to my heart.

And as I sit here I think of how many blind people Jesus cured. And I know that every time I "see" truthfully. Every time I see the beautiful in the "ugly" and the grace instead of the "chaos" I know it is Jesus who is wiping my eyes with his own hand, with his own truth.

And tears come to my own eyes as I realise that though "I was blind, now I see."

Purity of heart

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To see the best in another,

Ignoring other's flaws,

And acknowledging my own,

Seeking sincerity,

In my own thoughts, words and deeds,

While assuming sincerity in the words, thoughts and deeds of others,

Purity of heart...

Simplifying instead of analysing,

Encouraging instead of criticizing,

Reaching out in friendship to all,

Excepting the imperfections and limitations of both myself and others,

Knowing I can do nothing in myself,

But turn my eyes to the kingdom first.

Homeschooling, holistic living, Simple living, and other random thoughts :)

Doing or Being ? What has that question got to do with the title? Well sometimes life can seem a little out of balance when we place emphasis on doing either to much or do to little.
A time for everything right !
I've come to realise that in this season of my life when my children are small I have to concentrate on the being part a little more than I realised. Which is strange when you consider how many practical needs, small children have.
And Preschoolers love to do it's true. Whether it be rolling down a grassy hill, trying to pull out all the cd's in the rack or raid Mummy's makeup bag ;0)
...They like to keep busy.

However I'm kind of coming to see that whether homeschooling or not, kids, especially young kids are too over scheduled these days. There is so much pressure to organise activities for them, get them enrolled in different programs or simply make them fit into a ciriculum.

I remember as a child it was the small, intimate moments, the pauses, stillnesses and happy interactions with other's that made memories special.
A plant needs space to grow, and children do too. An Inspiring Home for Learning, #6

And I also remember I used to feel so guilty that my children were missing out because our pace of life was so much less active than other's. Less well, um, organized anyhows ~ smile :).
This was due mainly to 3 pregnancies in a row, ill health, on my part and no car for half the time. Yet God had a purpose.

I like to over organize, it's a part of who I am, it makes me feel in control of life lol ~ (as if :) Yet I was forced to oversimplify. Forced to let go and totally deconstruct my routine. And I realised that I over valued some parts of my life such as keeping an ultra tidy house and I was missing out on the most important things. What immediately springs to mind as I write this is the washing of the outside of the cup instead of the inside :) I will always consider it a blessing that I had to go through what I did through that time to be given that gift.

As time has worn on a little, our life has pretty much kept to this new way of being first, doing second). As a family we tend to take plenty of rests. We also tend to keep programed activities to a minimum ( my daughter takes piano lessons and goes to a drama group during the holidays, While the little ones go to a playgroup one morning, once every two weeks) Apart from that there are no other programmes.

We also do many of our activities together as a family. Things such as painting, crafts, music time, taking walks, reading, reading the bible and praying. Through this we have shard some very special moments together.

My four year old has started to read and write yet there has been no special program or great endeavor on our part. We simply read aloud a lot as a family and take a lot of trips to the library. Plus we have a very worn book shelf located, maybe unwisely for the books but definatly wisely for the kids, in the children's main bedroom. Many a night I have found all three of the older children asleep with books still open in their clasped hands :) A natural love of books has developed, well... naturally, I think.

Saying that our two year old barley speaks! Well she does, quite a lot actually only it's all her own language heehee:) But that is, I suppose that's the point. Each little plant grows a little differently. Needs a different soil, different climate, different handling. To be honest I don't worry about milestones, children will only talk and walk and read when they are ready.

One idea that has really worked it's way into our world is growing our own vegetables. This started out as a practical solution for trying to feed healthy, organic "ethical" veggies to the girls. Yet it has become a real learning opportunity for the girls, who absolutely love to watch the plants grow. They really tuck into produce they've actually sown themselves from seed too.





The same with sewing. I' have the oldest, most beat up sewing machine ever. But the girls love to watch me sew on it and by watching have picked up so much themselves with little structured effort on my part.

As for developing their imaginations, well a lot of it has been down to unstructured play. Being outside, letting them explore the natural world on walks in woodlands, parks meadows, fields.
Making tents, dens and the like.

I also have a big cake tin full of its and bobs, paper, tin foil, wool, bubble wrap, wrapping paper, tissue paper, pipe cleaners, fuzzy balls, felt, fabric and lollipop sticks and I just let them loose with a pile of card and lot's of glue in the kitchen ( washable surfaces)

Also, have you noticed how babies love to play with lot's of random mismatched clutter. Well I have a clutter box filled with varied things such as building blocks, Lego, play mirrors, bouncy balls, small dolls, cups, saucers, spoons, homemade rattles and such which keeps the baby busy for ages and ages.
See I love to keep order, yet order, a peaceful baby does not always make, lol:)

Another thing that comes to mind actually is cooking. I have always involved the kids in food preparation. My ten year old happily makes meals by herself ( with a little supervision of course) While the four year old can fix herself a sandwich, and the two year old can chop up soft fruit such as ripe pear halves and bananas for a fruit salad with her small blunt kid's knife. All this has helped them take an interest in all kinds of different food. Although as with all kids they'll never turn down a plate of fish n' chips or a bowl of ice cream lol!



Bible time is very important to us too. The girls often make a little alter on our fireplace with candles, holy cards and flowers. It makes them feel like they are really involved. My oldest also often chooses a reading which is special. We also try to include hymns which the youngest ones really enjoy :)

Lastly one of our very favourite things ( and by the way I recommend it for all families, it can end up so fun and silly)is probably music time. My husband plays guitar, the babies grab various shakers, rattles, tambourines, drums, etc, and Emmy sings. It's such fun! A little noisy, but fun. It is also an activity which involves both the youngest and the eldest members of the family. Which is a big bonus for me as I have a big age gap between daughters 1 and 2.

Left to my own devices our family life would have evolved differently. There would have been more structure, planning and scheduled activity. I would have taken control lol! Arming myself with a thousand perfectly bound binders full to the brim with lists, and lists of lists probably heehee:)

Yet I was, (and am) forced to be still. And listen. Just wait. Just be. And life kind of grows naturally out of that quiet place. Our garden is less of a formal garden and more of a country garden I guess. It's beautiful in a way and I could never have cultivated with all the plans and ideas and instructions in the world.
And It's beautiful mainly cause the gardener wasn't me ~ smile.

Mmmmmm, so while I'm on the subject of schooling, simple livin' and the like. I'll just post a few links to some great posts on the subject. There are some great ideas here, Take a little time to visit.
Blessings xxx

The Fadiman Way of Raising a Reader...

An Inspiring Home for Learning, #7

An Inspiring Home for Learning, #6

One Piece Life

Seven Daily Rungs,

http://www.tn-heart-and-hearth.com/Keep_a_Quiet_Heart.pdf : Elisabeth Elliot

A stellar Parenting resource

From the Ground

You know how sometimes you think your have it all figured out. Then suddenly life pushes it up a gear and you realise it was never you who was in control. It was God's strength and guidance all along.

Sometimes we have to face a broken reflection in the mirror. Love does not always look pretty. Sometimes it is messy. It does not come bound in a beautifully organised binder. Sometimes all the plans and schedules are laid to waste. God alone is working his plan through us. Broken branches falling back to their roots.

I am learning I cannot "organise" God out of my life. His plan is greater than mine. Sometimes a life airbrushed to perfection is more to do with outside expectations than God's will.

Christ lives through the broken, the hidden, the forgotton and the messy, difficult relentless trials more often than through the strong, showy, well presented, respectable, success stories.

It doesn't all come down to the end "result", the checked list, the achieving of every aim I think I ought. It's about accepting the times when my plans fail, however hard I try. Allowing these times to reflect my pride, self assurance, true weaknessness, so that I may grow closer to the truth. My design is not always His design.

For it is from the ground that we are raised up. To touch that ground is to touch the debris of stars. I am close to my saviour here.

Details

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”

(Matthew 10:29-31)

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Today I've been thinking about the small things, the unoticed things... Details.

How many times do I miss the details.

There is a tree opposite our house. Since we have lived here I have watched it through the seasons.

During Summer it's lush greeness spreads outward and upward. Swollen green leafed open palms praise the blue skies.

During Autumn it's leaves curl into cupped hands, golden, waiting.

At Wintertime the tree is stripped bare, it's structure exposed to the elements. It's branches brittle and vulnerable looking, grasp out at the blank white canvas above. A prayer of supplication.

Now it is Springtime something glorious happens. Upon each new supple offshoot grows a white blossom that opens out into a small candelabra shape. The tree shimmers in it's new adornment.

From here at by bedroom window the plain white blossom of this tree seems overshadowed by the powder puff pinks and ruby red jewels of the cherry and Almond varieties which line our street.

Yet yesterday, walking home my daughter reached up and pulled one of the little blossoms off in her hands.

Looking closely, I was amazed. Although plain white on the outside, inside each petal had it's own distinctive colour. The spectrum of colours was amazing. I literally couldn't find one single blossom alike!

It was as if each flower had been individually painted by hand with it's own custom colour.

All different and unique yet part of the same tree.

So today I thank God for the details.

The small, the unrealsized beauty, the little offerings, the things that go unoticed on the outside yet shine with the handiwork of God at their centre.

For God's greatness adorns the centre of the smallest petals.
In quiet, unoticed places his love blossoms.

"But thou, when thou mayest pray, go into thy chamber, and having shut thy door, pray to thy Father who is in secret, and thy Father who is seeing in secret, shall reward thee manifestly"


The Thousand Gifts

Transfigured

Is it a choice? Between the ordinary everyday, mundane, routine. Or the dream that brushes past me like a cool breeze. The light which gently draws me from sleep, the love that raises me up from the ground.
Is it a choice?
Is it possible for everyday moments, mundane routines, responsibilities, hopes, troubles, joy's, sorrows, sacrifices' be raised up by the dream itself.
A prayer that integrates into the everyday hours. Enlightening, illuminating, transfiguring the moments of giving, loving, recieving, being, crying, sharing, suffering, praying, living.


"and leadeth them up into an high mountain apart by themselves: and he was transfigured before them.
And his raiment became shining, exceeding white as snow; so as no fuller on earth can white them" Mark 9:3-4.

PEACE ( a few thoughts revisited)

www.flickr.com/photos/jaudris/

When we think of peace, many things come to mind: Peaceful activities: Strolling in the park, laying back on a favourite chair with a good book, relaxing with a glass of wine (or two) on a Summer evening, day dreaming,
...maybe even sleeping.

Jesus said to his disciples “My peace I leave with you. My peace I give you. A peace which the world cannot give. This is my gift to you. Let not your heart be troubled or afraid."

" A peace which the world cannot give" Is a kind of peace that cannot be sought and found without Jesus.
Often, it seems, the peace of Jesus is found amid the most "un-peaceful" of moments. Like an eye in a storm it is a breath of stillness at the centre of what often seems to be relentless activity. I have often reflected upon this type of peace as a mother of four young children. When a newborns feeding schedule wrenches you from your sleep frequently throughout the night it seems contrary to find peace at such times. But how many mothers recognise the overwhelming peace that swells from within when holding a little one close in the quiet hues of dawning light.

There is the touch of God in the abandonment of one's self to another.

Often the peace that Jesus offers us is hard won. It is not something that can be recieved passively, it has to be received actively. Through giving of ourselves to others. As by giving of ourselves to others we receive grace. By acting in service we receive peace.

The constancy of Jesus peace, navigates the strongest currents. Sets our compass, shepherds our course. A gentle yet strong resonance demarcating the perimeters of the "straight and narrow" path.

Yet peace, I think, has it's prelude in the darkness of faith. It is the birdsong in the first moments of dawn before the sun has yet risen .

Peace leaves everything in HIS hands.

And I am reminded of this,

"And He sat down and began teaching the people from the boat. 4 When He had finished speaking, He said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” 5 Simon answered and said, “Master, we worked hard all night and caught nothing, but I will do as You say and let down the nets.” 6 When they had done this, they enclosed a great quantity of fish, and their nets began to break; so they signaled to their partners in the other boat for them to come and help them. And they came and filled both of the boats, so that they began to sink "

Nets broken and boats sinking in the deep. Boats and nets, a livelihood. A way of living passed through generations. from father to son. Memories, stories, trade. Everything that could be depended on.

Yet.

"When they had brought their boats to land, they left everything and followed Him."

An act of faith had caused something to happen that changed Peter, James and John forever. They could never go back.

Peace means a giving up of something. Something that defines. To let God's light to seep through the hard outlines of ourselves. Like ink across an etching.

Psalms 147:14 "He maketh peace in thy borders, and filleth thee with the finest of the wheat."

Before I had children I had more time, more money, more so called freedom, many different choices and a lot less responsibility. Yet there was no peace.

I struggled, I searched I pressed on. I filled my days with things, and questions, and wishing and waiting, and then more things...

Peace. can only be held in an empty cup.

To empty out the baggage of my needs or at least the things I thought I needed. Meant letting go of .... everything.

When I take a few paces back, re track, in search of something of my own to retrieve, like broken debris washed up on the shore. I see, it's only me trying to hold on to the fraying seams of control once more. Peace is a gift. I receive with open hands and open arms. Arms ready to let go of my own understandings and embrace His understanding. Arms ready to give out. Hands, empty of my own need to possess. Cupped and ready to receive the sacrament of His peace.

There are many times when anxiety aches and troubles overwhelm and I can't find peace however hard I search amid the chaos and discord. Yet there is only one way through on the path where I feel my way along, stumbling and straining and reaching out. Faith. Faith in the darkness. Faith that can take over and steer me through the tumult. then My little boat seems to still and the storm around me seems to calm. And once again I am hauled ashore.

"He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still." Psalm 107:29

" And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm."

Peace be with you today.

A Quiet Place

A Place where I can gently pause.

Take a breath,

Refresh

My soul.

Growing

I love to garden. It has become a passion of mine.

I love to look out of the window in the morning and see new, tender, translucent green shoots strain toward the strengthening Spring sunshine.

I love to plant seeds in moist black earth.

Dark as a tomb, and wait.

For tiny specks of leaf to find their way to the surface.

Curled and fragile.

Tenacious.

I scuff through the wilting pages of glossy gardening magazines, glancing over images of "low maintenance" gardens. Designs founded upon, concrete, clean lines, gravel, and chrome.

Minimalistic. Easily controllable.

I appreciate the work and design, the unfussy structures, the curves and contours. Reflections that meditate upon, punctuated space.

Indentations and pauses, order and sublimity.

My own garden is a slightly more "naturalistic" affair. A necessary unplanning of. And a few last minute ideas thrown together by. Scattered seeds. Into the dust.

I plant.

I watch,

I wait.

Clashing coloured petals fall and fade randomly. Daisies and buttercups freckle the grass. Wildflowers, mix with hybrids and even a vegetable sprout or two creeps in amongst them now and again.

Our lettuce crop did so well this year, I ended up planting half of the plants into the flowerbed. I just could not abandon them to the compost heap!

A place where my thought takes root. In the mulch...

And muted shoots grasp out beneath,

Clean lines, concrete and gravel.

Like thread veins,

Soft undone, green stitches, open the seams.

Emerge between.

The cracks in the slabs along my pathway.

Do we see our souls this way at times?

Something that we wish to keep low maintenance.

Do I look for an easy blueprint of a design. That I can manage without trouble. Keep clean without effort?

Around the edges,

Over the surfaces.

Along the borders.

Can I alone achieve a perfect design for my soul's garden ?

I try, I try.

To keep the corners swept and the pebbles in place. And the damp rot under old wood hidden from sight.

And life just keeps on growing from the rubble. Whatever is pruned back springs forth life.

Just like the house.

Where whitewashed walls stay clean just long enough for them to become the newly prepared canvas of a child's sticky masterpiece.

I am undone. By my own efforts.

The design cannot be mine.

My ideas of Perfection , are not perfect in themselves. For they only lead back to myself.

A place of little perspective.

I have to give my craving for order and symmetry back to the source,

of Growth itself.

Alone, I am a stagnant pool.

Living water pours itself out,

moves,

channels through valleys,

erodes rock and stone,

cascades down mountainsides, filters through granite.

Until it eventually,

Returns to the sea.

Nothing that is alive remains a still life.

A perfect picture can only be completed by the hand of an artist.

And what it creates, is but a gift,

Nature moves forward.

It spills itself out and decomposes so that new life may grow, strong and healthy.

I am reminded of these words.

"And Jesus said unto him, Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head."

As soon as one part of the garden in my soul is clear another emerges, more overgrown than before.

Like tides washing up more debris onto the shore than they sweep away.

So I notice the driftwood ebb against my soul.

Tilled over and over. The earth of our hearts. To reveal the roots of weeds at times, At times the roots of new Spring seedlings.

I spent close to an hour this afternoon propping up sunflowers, sweet peas and beans upon canes with bits of string.

Yet what props up my soul as it grows in search of light?

God's word,

the arm of a friend,

a little kindness along the way.

The Hope, of the seed,

The Faith, of the gardener,

The love, of the sun and the rain and the moist earth.

Providence.

My hands are discoloured from the work of the day. They have taken on the tinge of the earth. Green, musty, sooty.

The process of tending growth leaves it's mark on me.

Imperfect, Straining, grasping, straggly are the shoots, yes.

Yet still,

Somehow, still,

Growing.

walking in the night...

Sometimes I've feel disorientated.

Sometimes, I feel completly overwhelmed and unable to take another step.

Sometimes I've feel alone, and paralysed. My body heavy as clay in the still air.

At these times I am forced to be at rest. I am forced to wait. Forced to recognise my frailty and weakness. Forced to listen to the smallest whispers of my soul.

Sometimes, it feels that we are left with only a candle of faith kept alight by the breath of hope to guide us.

Walking in the depth of a valley from which we can see nothing beyond the height of the mountains surrounding us. And in this place God meets us as we are. His lost children. Naked and shivering as winter trees in a storm.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;

Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."

I am often comforted by this extract from St. Therese of Lisieux in her book "Story of a Soul"

"The very fact that, left to myself, I could do nothing, made my task seem all the more simple; there was only one thing for me to do, unite myself more and more to God, knowing that He would give all the rest in addition.

This was no vain hope; no matter how often I have to feed the souls of my Sister, my hand is always full.
I assure you that had I acted in any other way, had I relied upon my own resources, I should have had to lay down my arms at once."

As our steps quicken through this valley we are forced to through off all that encumbers. Our fears, our ideas, our attachments to things.

We are forced to walk a straight and narrow road because we are walking in the darkness. Just as we are at pains to take care not to stumble in the middle of the night.
I'm holding on, clinging on to Jesus's hand. To the strands of love and peace and joy that fray from the hem of his robes.

Jesus is the light of the world and the holy spirit came upon the apostles only once He had assended. It seemed to them that he had gone, but he was there more than ever before.
He was inside them.

On Being a Mother

As I tuck four girls into bed tonight I cannot help but smile.
Ten years can make all the difference in the world.
I was alone ten years ago, or so it seemed. I wasn't of course, Jesus was there beside me guiding me so very gently I could hardly feel his touch. Healing, encouraging, protecting, bringing me home. Then my first little girl Emmy was born and life began to change.
Now, I am anything but alone .
My days are filled to the brim with little voices, outstretched arms, eyes bright and new to life.
Little new eyes that make me see things anew through their wide open gaze out into the blue, blue sky. Or the gleaming green grass.
Little bugs on hands, that amaze and delight, licking the bowl clean after baking cakes, crunching leaves under our feet, running after twinkles to make wishes with.
I never thought I would be this unselfconcious, this strong, this captivated by a beautiful vision, of a place I want my children to always remeber. A memory box of happy childhood moments, filled with love and joy and truth.

It has brought me to the edges of myself and beyond this loving another more than your own life thing. Having a child in your arms, staring into your face with absolute love and trust.

The more I give my own understanding up, to follow the path God has set for me, the more he seems to draw me beyond my limits. I feel completly fragile aware of how lost, weak and fallible I am alone.
Yet...
"Thou hast enlarged my steps under me, that my feet did not slip."Psalm 18: 28-30, 32, 36
For every step he has led me he has given me a little more for the undertaking.


I am so overwhelmed and thankful for this life He has given to me. These's lives He has entrusted to my care. He knew exactly what I needed. He knew how to draw me out of myself. This family is so precious to me it's the foundations of my world. My heart, every breath. They are everything to me.


I love them so much.


I ache when I am away from them.


I take so much joy in each smile, each time I am able to comfort and hold them close. Each little thing they say fills my heart with joy I can't express.


Motherhood, though maybe seen as a small vocation; has brought me so far.


It overwhelms and humbles me to a capacity I had never known before.


Pure and limitless. Beyond the frailty of myself.


I thank God every day for these gifts. I pray to be worthy of them.

Taking Root

"And Jesus said unto him, Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head."

Did Jesus mean this in a physical sense only?

Jesus had no permanant dwelling place, this much is known.

Yet did Jesus also mean he had no mental, emotional or spiritual resting place in this world?

Sometimes it feels as if God is sifting our souls into a fine tilled soil in which the seed of his word may grow fruitfully.

A highly defined sense of our own identity can in someways prevent this constant tilling over of our human nature.

We may highly esteem certain aspects of our character, become to attached to certain ideas about who we want to be and what we want to do.

Sometimes it seems as if God is actually tring to undercut us just as we make headway. Yet maybe this is for our own spiritual good.

In this state we seem to have no place to set a while and take root in the soil of the materiel world. We have to become "passerby" in every sense of the word even to our own selves so that our souls may take root in the kingdom of heaven first.

Wake up Dreaming...

The dream,

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Awakens me.

each moment, a gift.

Every moment has within it the possibilty of completness in God. Every moment is a gift.

How can I best respond to the gift of this moment from God?

How can I return the gift he has given me intact.

Pass it along to others?

I don't own the moments of my life even if they are gifts in themselves.

Everything that is true cannot be possessed only impressed with the colour and shape of individual dreams and prayers, joys and pain, intentions, and love.

How do I imprint upon each moment of my life?

Do I bury the moments given to me in disatisfactions and arguments?

Do I see the sacredness of each breath?

The sacredness of each moment beyond the noise and distraction of now!

Each moment is drawn from the wellspring of eternity.

But do I always cup my hands to drink?

The Thousand Gifts

Randomness, Illness and How the important stuff is brought into full relief....

Another wave of viruses of some or other description has invaded this house!!! I feel like I should be painting some kind of warning sign outside the door and leaving a bucket of disinfectant at the gate as some sort of public service. We have just been inundated with one bug after another this winter:0(

Surely, Surely this means we must be immune till Midsummer. At least! Two healthy weeks would do at this point actually lol!

All this reminds me of my last pregnancy. I was really sick at some points during it. I suffered from severe hypothyroidism, chronic anemia and back pain, ( Seraphina was posterior and 10lbs at birth). I was completely out of action by the end of nine months. Sick, tired, and feeling like nothing but a burden. At 8 months I blacked out at the top of the stairs, my 13 month old
( Praise God) still in my arms as I somehow found the handrail and hauled myself across the stair gate.

Obviously I'm not anywhere near that sick at the moment but I still need a little moan :)

As a Mum especially a Mum to lot's of little ones, so much of energy goes into running everything and trying to keep cohesion and some semblance of order. It can be overwhelming.

And having to let go of everything because you're sick can often be even more trying.

Every little whine and cry distorts into an echoing ring of failure. Every little biscuit crumb on the floor as a sign that the whole fabric of life itself is falling apart!

Being sick certainly does two things that's for sure. One, it highlights all the areas of life I think I am in control of. The ones that keep me feeling good about myself, that make me feel as if I am fulfilling my role in life properly. From cleaning, to cooking, all the mummy stuff, general placating, administrating, organising and refereeing and Two, it absolutely forces me to let go of each and every one. I am not what I do anymore, I am simply left with what I am.
It seems so much easier to do than to be sometimes. Doing tends to cover up the imperfections within me a little, at least to my conscious mind. But here I am faced with an un-embellished reflection of who I am, outside of role and routine. I may not be able to make dinner but can I be absolutely patient and loving to my irritable child?
Essentially, I have to ask myself, can I show love in who I am rather than in what I do.

Life suddenly becomes very streamlined!

Prioritising is never so starkly necessary than when you are sick and many little people are relying on you.

Only those things that are essential, bar none, to physical survival and sanity become important.

Everything else...ends up... well ... in the laundry basket!

(i.e, in need of a good wash, iron out and tidy away.)

So here I am feeling a bit yuck!

My husband, bless him took the afternoon off. So I'm recuperating.

The dishes are overflowing, the house smells of baked beans and wet wipes.

The children had cereals for lunch.

And Yes.. the laundry basket is overflowing!

But the things that really matter are present and intact. The only things we really have any control over at the end of the day anyhow.

Because all the rest is building blocks. The tangible expressions of the love we have for each other. Without that love all things become nothing but nicely arranged debris. Meaningless and empty.

So sometimes I am forced to be still. Realise that control isn't as important as intention.

Forced to be silent when I want to speak out.

" No don't do it like that, I always do it this way"

And just accept.

Hang on to the essentials.

And in a funny way all this brings the essential stuff into full relief. It highlights what's really important to our family life in bold letters. And before long the facade of chaos blurs into the background.

The pots and pans clatter, but somebody is making soup for me. Glitter speckles the kitchen floor but it's the picture for Mummy my daughter proudly holds that I see.

Nothing that is glued together with all that good and important stuff, love, prayer, faith, joy, kindness, compassion, and togetherness ever really falls apart under trial. It only gets stronger.